Bloody and Bowed
by Reiko Itoshii
Summary: Post ep to 'Posse Comitatus'. CJ falls into decay, while Toby tries to keep a secret. CHAPTER TWO UP: The press conference does not go well.
1. Chapter One

"So, CJ..." Toby stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning in the doorway of her office. "You...wanna get some coffee, or something?"  
  
"No." She kept her head down on her desk. She really did look a mess, Toby thought, biting his lip. Like she hadn't even bothered this morning, or the morning before, or the one before that. And she probably hadn't slept, either. He knew he hadn't, and she had even more on her mind than he did.   
  
"I'll pay," he ventured. He hoped that wasn't a false promise, jingling what little was left in his pockets. Where had he gone last night? He couldn't remember. That wasn't a good sign. Maybe that was why he was out of cash.  
  
"Sure, fine." Her voice was flat, uninterested. As she rose from the desk, she knocked her chair over, and didn't bother to stop and right it again. Grabbing her crumpled coat off of the floor, she stuck one arm into it, then lost the initiative halfway, and just let it hang like that. "Go get the car."  
  
This wasn't going to be easy, Toby realized. In point of fact, he wasn't at all sure that he really wanted to bring this into the daylight. But she needed to out, she needed the air, and she needed to eat. She wasn't going to do it without assistance.   
  
He'd never quite seen CJ like this before, he mused as he walked through the halls. He didn't feel too sorry for Simon Donovan anymore. Simon was dead. He wasn't feeling pain. It was CJ he pitied. She was still quite alive...but she was pretty useless, now. Bartlet wasn't going to stand for it much longer, and they couldn't lose CJ. They all needed CJ. And CJ needed help.  
  
She stepped into the car, almost tripping on her heel, and cursing softly as she slid into the seat and slammed the door. Toby took the wheel. He knew they could get coffee right where they were. But he didn't want to be so surrounded by people, right now. He didn't want anyone to come up to him and declare that there was another crisis on their hands. If anything happened right now, it would have to wait. A man had to have priorities in life. Right?  
  
"Toby?" CJ looked over at him out of heavy-lidded eyes.   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She shuffled her feet on the floor of the car, and shook her head. "Nothing. Nevermind."   
  
He drummed his fingers on the dashboard. "You sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ok." Damn, why were they so uncomfortable? Simon, probably. Simon, and Bartlet, and the campaign, and the fucking reporters who kept bugging her, asking her, pressuring her, killing her, because she didn't want to think about their prying questions. She hadn't told them everything, but somehow, it got into the papers. Toby wasn't really surprised about that, because somehow or another, everything got into the papers. But it was still in the papers, and that's what bothered him. Because every morning, they had to read it, usually on the first two or three pages, some stupid speculation about the martyr and his grieving lover. They hadn't even gotten that far. At least, he didn't think they had. Why was he thinking about this?  
  
They stopped outside the little coffee shop, where nobody went, and which most people hadn't even heard of. CJ didn't ask questions, but got out of the car when he opened the door. He reached out a hand to help her, so she wouldn't trip again, but she ignored it, and seemed to do just fine on her own. She would always do just fine on her own. Wouldn't she?   
  
"What do you want?" He asked, as he held open the door for her. She shrugged, still uninterested, still unsure.  
  
"Coffee."   
  
"That wasn't very helpful," Toby said, but he ordered what he wanted, and let her take her time. She did. She took a very long time.  
  
"CJ?"   
  
"Yeah?" She looked up at him again, from where she'd been carefully scrutinizing the knots in the wood of the table.   
  
He didn't say anything, but just looked at her, suddenly worrying. She was so fragile, now, not the CJ he knew, not the CJ who got on his nerves, and was overly flippant and confident, and who teased and taunted and always knew exactly how to save the situation. This was someone else, and if he wasn't careful, she just might break his heart.   
  
"I don't know," she told him, the dark circles blatantly obvious on the pale skin of her face. "I really don't know." And then she started to cry.  
  
It was like some great hand had come down and squeezed all the life out of her, Toby thought, a few seconds later. She just crumpled down on to the table; one arm sprawled over the side like a bit of ragdoll, and sobbed. He just sat, and watched her, and was there for her, like he was always there for her, like he knew he needed to be. He didn't dare reach to touch her hand, or hair. She was still CJ, and she wouldn't like that. She wanted to be unbreakable. And only he would know. 


	2. Chapter Two

When they got back to the White House, neither Sam nor Josh asked where they'd been, and Toby was grateful. CJ left his side the moment they reached her office, walked in, and shut the door. He heard the lock click, and wondered if she was going to sit down and cry again. He didn't want to watch that. Turning away, he strode into his own office, and collapsed at his desk, breathing out a long, resigned sigh. Well, he'd tried. He'd tried, and she'd just have to get over it herself. She couldn't just slump around like this forever, and even she knew that. Life had to go on.   
  
"Um..." Sam cleared his throat from the doorway, alerting Toby to his presence.  
  
"What?" That came out more harshly than Toby intended, and he saw Sam grimace. "What's up?" He asked, more gently, blowing out a breath. "What do you need?"  
  
"I have to...is she gonna be ok?" Sam cut himself off mid-sentence, glancing significantly towards the closed door of CJ's office. Toby shrugged.  
  
"How should I know?" Then he stopped, shaking his head. "Yeah, she'll be fine. Just leave her alone. What do you need?" Yes, Toby thought, she'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll all be fine. I need an aspirin.  
  
"Right," Sam said, sounding like he was trying to believe himself. "Of course."  
  
***********  
  
"...and that about wraps it up." CJ finished quietly, standing in the pressroom, looking at but not really seeing the sea of faces swimming below her. "I need to...get back...to get out...goodbye."  
  
"CJ, CJ!" The voices called, but she wasn't listening to them. Stepping quickly down from the podium, she reached towards the door, grateful that it was over. Funny, she thought, she used to like this job.   
  
"CJ!" A booming voice suddenly drowned out the others. Who was that? No one she knew personally. Someone new? "CJ, can you tell us about Simon Donovan's funeral yesterday?" No, No, I have to ignore them, she thought, taking a breath.   
  
But now the voices were chorusing, the same thing, the same words, the same way...she couldn't think. "CJ, the funeral, the funeral, CJ, CJ, CJ!" She wanted to scream, and tear at them, but she couldn't, not as the Press Secretary, not in the White House, not here, not now. Slowly, she turned around.   
  
"Right...the funeral...I...I forgot..." Staring out and downward, they all looked foreign to her. "It..." CJ stopped, and swallowed, trying again. "It was at 9:30 AM...at...at the church..."   
  
"Which church, CJ?" The voice sounded testy. Which church? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything. It was all blurry...her eyes were blurry, the faces were blurry...she couldn't see straight. Tears? Angrily, she dashed them away. Again, they persisted, "CJ, CJ, CJ..."  
  
"I...I don't know! I don't know, leave me alone...stop it..." The tears were flowing again, now. Damnit, why couldn't she stop? She needed to control herself! She couldn't do this, she had to think! She had to reason, to speak, to be controlled...she couldn't go on like this. Rushing out the door, she slammed it behind her, and sagged against the wall in the hallway. It was a few minutes before she finally wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and looked up.  
  
Toby and Josh were standing there, concern on their faces, and...pity, too. Gods, she didn't want their pity! She didn't want anyone's pity, not even now, not even when everything seemed to be unraveling. Pushing past them, she stalked down the hall, and entered her office again. Locked in, she stood in the corner for a long time, just breathing.  
  
***********  
  
Toby and Josh just sort of looked at each other after she'd gone. "Oh, jeez," Josh finally said. "I didn't really think...I mean, I didn't know it was like that."  
  
"Yeah," Toby said, biting his lip. "It's that bad."  
  
Josh bowed his head, apparently thinking. Toby himself was unsure of what to do. That hadn't been good. At all. In fact, if the President found out about that, it could be very, very bad. He respected CJ, but...of course, he had a campaign to run. And she was pointless, useless right now.   
  
"She really loved him, didn't she?" Josh asked, glancing at Toby from out of the corners of his eyes. Toby just stared at him.  
  
"It's just that...I don't know, I thought you'd..." Josh trailed off, giving him a significant look.   
  
"I really don't have the time or energy for games right now," Toby replied testily. "You thought I'd what?"  
  
Looking lost, Josh drummed his fingers against the door. "I thought you'd...you know, care."   
  
"Care? Of course I care! Yes, I, Toby Ziegler, care very much. Is that good enough for you? Do I have to make it any clearer?" Toby was angry. Did people really see it that way? That he didn't care? "But," and he knew it was true, "There's nothing I can do. Nothing. She's got to sit this one through herself. I've tried. Have you seen me try? It's only been two days since the man died, Josh, give her a few. Give her a chance."  
  
"That's not what I meant," Josh insisted, but he looked finished, so Toby didn't respond. It was better if they just left it alone. Left her alone. Left him alone. 


End file.
